Alone No More
by JaxGalaxie
Summary: Set after Hao's defeat in the Shaman King anime, except instead of dying, he loses his powers and is alone. But will he stay alone forever?


Alone No More

His long hair spilled beneath him, dancing underneath the water. With his face above the surface, his chest was slowly rising and falling to the rhythm of a gentle breath. Scattered around him were petals of various flowers floating upon the serene pool. A miniscule waterfall whispered a stream into the pond, and the squeaks and croaks of various small animals filled the air.

Hao awoke like this, alone, the atmosphere pacific, contrasting his troubled heart. Too weak to lift his head up and swim to the shore, he lay there, on the surface of the water, letting the little waves push him around the pond.

_Ironic, _Hao considered. He'd always been the one making waves. All kinds of waves. Waves of power. Waves of influence. Waves of spirit.

And now, he felt those waves paying him back.

From the moment he woke up, he knew his powers had left him. He felt a certain kind of emptiness, one unlike the hunger for power he'd felt all his life. It felt lonely. Desperate. Miserable. He wondered, perhaps this was the kind of hunger he'd instilled in all those people he had hurt.

Despite the fact that he knew his powers had disappeared, he raised a trembling fist in the air anyway, hoping for at least a spark of ember to flicker from his fingers. He was never the type to give up.

But there was nothing.

Hao sighed and let his hand collapse back into the water, disturbing the smooth surface into ripples that rocked the flower petals.

He chuckled softly to himself, considering the irony once more. At least he could make _those_ waves.

The great Spirit of Fire had been defeated, destroyed, sliced into halves by the great sword that belonged to Yoh and Amidamaru. Hao had watched it burst into flames as it screeched in terror, crumbling before his eyes as he fell down into oblivion. Oblivion had turned out to be the little pool of water he had apparently landed in, all in one piece. He reckoned that far away from where he lay, Yoh and his band of friends were likely celebrating their triumph.

Yoh's ever-serene expression was eternally etched into Hao's memory. His heart grew even more troubled. How could someone so lax defeat Hao in such a way? Could something as ridiculous and cheesy as love and friendship be the key to everything?

He thought of himself floating in the pond, alone.

_So small. _

"Master Hao?"

The voice had come from the shore behind him. It was light with a touch of rasp to it, and it trembled as it spoke.

Hao didn't have to guess who it was.

"Opacho…"

"Master Hao… You're hurt," said the voice.

Hao could hear some minor splashing behind his head, indicating that Opacho had waded into the pool. He felt two hands grip at his poncho and tug him with a grunt to the water's edge. Hao couldn't find the strength—both physically and emotionally—to pull himself out of the water.

"You're hurt," Opacho repeated.

"I'm having a hard time moving," Hao said plainly.

"You've got wounds all over you," Opacho told him. "Oh… you're bleeding!"

It was then that Hao could taste the crusted blood over his lips. He laughed lightly. "I've been through worse."

"Really?" Opacho's tone told Hao that she doubted his words.

Hao laughed again, then winced in pain; the bruised stomach had knocked the wind out of him.

The top of his head and his back were dragged onto the muddy shore. He rolled onto his side and groaned, clutching his belly.

"I'll get help!" Opacho offered, turning on her heels to dash away.

"No," Hao said, causing Opacho to pause mid-run. "They won't help me. Nobody will."

The two remained in silence, silence that was awkward on Opacho's end and silence that was miserable on Hao's. Suddenly, Opacho spoke up.

"Then _I'll _help you."

The little girl rushed to his side, her tiny feet splish-splashing through the water, and she cupped water in her hands and began to rinse Hao's fresh wounds.

"Don't bother," Hao told her. "It's over for me."

Opacho glanced around, then back at Hao. She grabbed at his cape. "I'm sorry, Master Hao. I have to rip this so I can bandage your wounds."

"Opacho…"

"Just let me help you, please!"

"I just want to stand…"

Opacho grabbed Hao by the shoulder and pushed him onto his knees. He was shaking from the searing pain that his wounds and bruises inflicted upon him.

"Are you cold, Master Hao?" Opacho asked him.

"I'm fine," Hao replied curtly, turning away from her.

Opacho frowned at looked at him with her big, wavering eyes. "Do you need anything?"

Suddenly Hao's back and shoulders heaved with a huge sob and he mashed his face into his palms, trying to stop the tears from pouring out of his eyes. A small squeak escaped Opacho's throat as she jumped back in surprise.

"Master Hao!" she exclaimed.

"I…" Hao hiccupped. "I…!"

His entire body was racked with sobs and shudders. He wailed like an animal—a hurt, dying animal. He cursed everyone and everything—Yoh and his friends, his followers who had abandoned him, his own family, his lineage…

But most of all, he cursed himself.

He'd failed, after all.

"Master Hao." Opacho's voice was gentler this time.

Hao looked up from his hands, eyes puffy and watery with tears, his nose dripping, and his entire face red. Opacho took Hao's hands and held them in her tiny ones, massaging his palms with her thumbs to relax them.

"I've lost everything…" Hao whispered through his snuffles.

"You're not alone, Master Hao." Opacho's tone was affirmative. "I'm still here."

Hao cried harder.

"I'm so sorry I ran away back there," Opacho apologized. "I left you."

"No, Opacho…" Hao managed a weak smile. "It was _I _who left you. I got lost in the path I was trying to follow… so lost…"

Opacho held out her little arms to him, and Hao, hesitating at first, stretched his arms out as well, but when the little girl in orange jumped into his embrace, Hao hugged her so tightly, as if this little shaman he'd loved as though she were his own child could slip away from him at any moment.

"Thank you…" Hao whispered. His chest had stopped heaving harshly with his cries. "Thank you, Opacho."

"What are we going to do now, Master Hao?" Opacho glanced up at Hao.

Hao gazed up at the blue sky. He had no clue how much time had passed, nor any idea where he was, but he had Opacho by his side again, and he felt a lot less lonely and weak as he initially had.

"You don't have to call me 'Master,'" Hao told the little girl in orange. "You're not my follower, Opacho. You're my friend. Just call me Hao."

"Okay…" Opacho said. "Hao." Then she chuckled. "It sounds so weird!"

Hao laughed, happily this time. "One day, it won't."

Opacho giggled. "You have flowers in your hair."

"Ah…" Hao picked at a petal hanging off his bangs. "So, I do."

"So, what are we going to do now?" Opacho repeated. "Hao?"

Hao slowly picked himself off the ground and stood on his wobbly legs, holding onto a rock for support until he was standing straight up. He was beginning to feel much better.

"I think…" Hao began. "We should get something to eat first. I'm famished."

"And then?" Opacho bounced around him.

"Hmm…" Hao put a hand on his hip and scratched his head with the other. "We should find a place to rest for a while."

"And then?" Opacho grinned up at him.

"Then, maybe we can watch the sunset from somewhere?" Hao suggested.

"And then what?" Opacho said, jumping up and down in delight.

Hao chuckled. "We'll cross the bridge when we get there."

"Fine, fine…" Opacho said, tugging at the hem of Hao's poncho. "Let's go!"

The sun began to set in the horizon, painting the sky orange and yellow. A flock of birds singing a sweet song soared overhead, their music filling the air. Hao smiled.

"We best hurry," he said. "Or we'll miss the sunset."

"Okay, Hao!" Opacho said with a grin.

Hao held out his hand to her, and Opacho took it. Hao squeezed her tiny hand and walked with Opacho as she pulled him towards wherever she wanted to go. Hao was alone no more. He finally had someone—a true friend—by his side, one that had forgiven him and cared for him. He reflected on what had happened in the months prior, the lessons he'd learned, and the people he'd met.

And he was most thankful for Opacho.


End file.
